Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Saturday, November 12, 2011

What Kind of Freak Am I?

It's no secret that I sometimes nod off in the recliner while watching the Food Network.

I put on my basement glasses to watch TV. They are my old prescription, not bifocals, not the ones I use for driving or taking in a high school basketball game. They just make the screen a bit clearer. A couple of times, I've picked them up from the table beside my chair to find a single fingerprint right in the middle of the left lens. I don't know what's up with that. The Pony sometimes shares the big-screen with me, but he swears that he never touches my glasses. And why would he?

An evening in front of the TV requires accessories. My go-to comfort items are a stuffed, chartreuse/royal blue/yellow snake that The Pony won at the school carnival three years ago, and a soft, soft chartreuse throw blanket with red, green, and white spots that I won at my sister's Christmas Eve party. Yes. My accessories are color-coordinated. By happenstance.

The snake serves as a neck support. It is just right. The throw is toasty warm. I blame it for my lapses into unconsciousness. When I start feeling drowsy, I lean way back in the recliner. Sometimes, I push the glasses up onto my head so as not to peer out from under the lenses at the TV. It would be too much trouble to take them off and lean over to put them on the table.

Last week, I awoke at 2:00 a.m. I'd been asleep for going on three hours. The throw was insulating me like an out-of-control electric blanket. I peeled it off and unreclined. I felt the glasses on my head. I didn't remember putting them up there, but nobody else was around to do it for me. I took them off.

The glasses were dripping with liquid. Huge droplets had condensed on the outside lens side. I know I was sweating. And I know that basements are the most humid part of a house. But really. I would have had to sweat like a cartoon character, squirts of perspiration shooting from my brow like so many reverse raindrops, to form the collection of water beads on those glasses.

What kind of freak am I?


Sioux said...

Have you entered the gates of a wondeful themepark called Menopauseland? The rides are thrilling...There's Hot Flash Hill...Pee-in-Your-Pants Pantyliner Luge...Scary Facial Hair-a-Rama...It's not just a day of fun, either. It's years and years of enjoyment.

Linda O'Connell said...

My daughter-in-law made me a throw. Never fails when I cover with it, I can actually feel myself losing conciousness. I often wake at 2:00 a.m. and go to bed, but it's just not the same as being under that heat holding throw cover. I often tell her, "THANKS a lot!" She knows what I mean.
Now, droplets on your lenses? You sure you didn't sneeze a snoot full and wake yourself?

Val Thevictorian said...

I think I am still outside the gates, peering through the wrought-iron fence. My face is as smooth as Justin Bieber's. Though after holding my water from lunch at 10:53 a.m. until after parking lot duty on Mondays, the pee is coursing through my aqueducts like water sluicing down a log flume.

Because of your diligent problem-solving tactics, I nominate you for membership in Mystery, Inc. And declare your efforts to be Encyclopedia-Brown-worthy.

Last winter, I took that throw to the bedroom and draped it over the Grandma-made quilt that Hick prefers. Only on my side, of course.

No sneezing. The ol' snoot was still full.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Mysterious happenings in the basement! Menopause will definitely turn your thermostat up. I was up at 1 am to open a window so that I would be able to sleep in here. He who is now always cold had built a fire and it was almost 80 in here.

Val Thevictorian said...

Yikes! That's almost hot enough to bake bread!

Deepak Biswas said...

Really Appreciated.
Thank you.

Kiss throw